Belly, protecting Josie for reasons she couldn't imagine.
After that statement, the savage finally cast a furtive, wary glance her way, but didn't meet her eyes or make a move in her direction. Instead, he crossed the room and disappeared up the ladder. What was his game? Josie wondered. Was he waiting to get her alone before lighting into her, too embarrassed to let Daniel know that a female had ambushed him? Or figuring on sneaking up as she slept to get his revenge? She had no doubt he'd be seeking his pound of flesh, one way or another.
As Sissy lined the eggs up on the counter, Josie impulsively said, "Need some help?"
"Cooking? I thought you'd rather die than get stuck fixing us a meal."
Keeping her voice low, she said, "I meant that I'd rather die than take orders from that savage, not that I expected you to do everything. Besides, I was under the impression you weren't supposed to lift a finger around here. Aren't you afraid the buffalo spirit will sneak out of you if you get to working with the pots and pans?"
Sissy, not one prone to frivolity, chuckled under her breath. "I figure if I don't want to get poisoned by the food or the filth on them dishes around here, I'd best tend to such chores myself."
"l have to admit that I've been kinda washing the dishes up before I eat off them, too. Have you taken a good look at the stove?"
Sissy didn't bother to look at it. She simply nodded. "There's enough grease stuck to its topside to sweeten every skillet in all the Territories."
Josie snickered, still hiding behind Sissy's hair. "They're a couple of pigs, aren't they?"
For the first time that Josie could remember, Sissy actually laughed, not a gut-rolling chortle, but open-mouthed giggles, the way Josie figured girlfriends behaved. Feeling close to Sissy in ways she never imagined she would, she took up the plate she'd washed and began to dry it with the sheepskin lining of Daniel's coat.
"When's your birthday?" she asked, caught by a sudden idea.
Sissy stopped in the middle of the pan she was scrubbing, and frowned. "Don't have one."
"Of course you do. You must know how old you are."
This time Sissy kept on scrubbing. "Don't know for sure. About twenty, I expect."
This was a shock to Josie, and not just because Sissy obviously didn't know her true birthday. She had assumed that Sissy was older, certainly beyond her own twenty-three years. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and bronzed, but her eyes and general manner were aged, too hollow for a woman of twenty.
Wanting to make up for the void somehow, Josie said, "Everyone should have a birthday. Since we don't know the exact date of yours, why don't we proclaim Thanksgiving as your official birthday? That way you'll always remember when to celebrate."
Instead of the response Josie had hoped for, Sissy merely shrugged. "Don't make no never mind to me. I ain't never had no reason to celebrate the day I was born, and I don't expect that I'll have reason to in the future."
Instead of discouraging Josie, Sissy's lackadaisical attitude only served to fire her imagination. She vowed then and there to make sure that Sissy was remembered on her birthday—even if, heaven forbid, they were still stuck in this godforsaken cabin on Thanksgiving Day.
Across the room, Daniel made a show of putting the finishing touches on Josie's boots, but mostly he was just trying to listen in on the women's conversation. All he'd heard so far were murmured exchanges and a few giggles, nothing that made any sense. Then, adding to the confusion, Long Belly returned to the group carrying one of his long-sleeved shirts and a pair of fringed leggings—which he then gave to Josie.
"What are you doing?" Daniel blurted out, surprised he'd voiced the thought.
"Broken Dishes needs something to wear other than her skinny dress or your heavy coat."
"Broken Dishes?" said Josie.
"Your new name," Daniel explained, irritated all at once. "How do you like it?"
Instead of answering him, she
After that statement, the savage finally cast a furtive, wary glance her way, but didn't meet her eyes or make a move in her direction. Instead, he crossed the room and disappeared up the ladder. What was his game? Josie wondered. Was he waiting to get her alone before lighting into her, too embarrassed to let Daniel know that a female had ambushed him? Or figuring on sneaking up as she slept to get his revenge? She had no doubt he'd be seeking his pound of flesh, one way or another.
As Sissy lined the eggs up on the counter, Josie impulsively said, "Need some help?"
"Cooking? I thought you'd rather die than get stuck fixing us a meal."
Keeping her voice low, she said, "I meant that I'd rather die than take orders from that savage, not that I expected you to do everything. Besides, I was under the impression you weren't supposed to lift a finger around here. Aren't you afraid the buffalo spirit will sneak out of you if you get to working with the pots and pans?"
Sissy, not one prone to frivolity, chuckled under her breath. "I figure if I don't want to get poisoned by the food or the filth on them dishes around here, I'd best tend to such chores myself."
"l have to admit that I've been kinda washing the dishes up before I eat off them, too. Have you taken a good look at the stove?"
Sissy didn't bother to look at it. She simply nodded. "There's enough grease stuck to its topside to sweeten every skillet in all the Territories."
Josie snickered, still hiding behind Sissy's hair. "They're a couple of pigs, aren't they?"
For the first time that Josie could remember, Sissy actually laughed, not a gut-rolling chortle, but open-mouthed giggles, the way Josie figured girlfriends behaved. Feeling close to Sissy in ways she never imagined she would, she took up the plate she'd washed and began to dry it with the sheepskin lining of Daniel's coat.
"When's your birthday?" she asked, caught by a sudden idea.
Sissy stopped in the middle of the pan she was scrubbing, and frowned. "Don't have one."
"Of course you do. You must know how old you are."
This time Sissy kept on scrubbing. "Don't know for sure. About twenty, I expect."
This was a shock to Josie, and not just because Sissy obviously didn't know her true birthday. She had assumed that Sissy was older, certainly beyond her own twenty-three years. Her skin was surprisingly smooth and bronzed, but her eyes and general manner were aged, too hollow for a woman of twenty.
Wanting to make up for the void somehow, Josie said, "Everyone should have a birthday. Since we don't know the exact date of yours, why don't we proclaim Thanksgiving as your official birthday? That way you'll always remember when to celebrate."
Instead of the response Josie had hoped for, Sissy merely shrugged. "Don't make no never mind to me. I ain't never had no reason to celebrate the day I was born, and I don't expect that I'll have reason to in the future."
Instead of discouraging Josie, Sissy's lackadaisical attitude only served to fire her imagination. She vowed then and there to make sure that Sissy was remembered on her birthday—even if, heaven forbid, they were still stuck in this godforsaken cabin on Thanksgiving Day.
Across the room, Daniel made a show of putting the finishing touches on Josie's boots, but mostly he was just trying to listen in on the women's conversation. All he'd heard so far were murmured exchanges and a few giggles, nothing that made any sense. Then, adding to the confusion, Long Belly returned to the group carrying one of his long-sleeved shirts and a pair of fringed leggings—which he then gave to Josie.
"What are you doing?" Daniel blurted out, surprised he'd voiced the thought.
"Broken Dishes needs something to wear other than her skinny dress or your heavy coat."
"Broken Dishes?" said Josie.
"Your new name," Daniel explained, irritated all at once. "How do you like it?"
Instead of answering him, she
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